


Keep Calm and Carry On

by LizLovesLit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-22 05:58:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11373996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizLovesLit/pseuds/LizLovesLit
Summary: I ended up in the psych ward this summer. I'm still fighting, I just can't bring myself to write. Everything just seems pointless. I'm sorry I left you hanging, and continue to do so. - Liz 9/19/17My alternate to Season 12. I've had this kicking around for a year now and decided to at least TRY to write. I don't think I'm any good at it, but I want it out of my damn head! Some dialogue shamelessly stolen from canon to help ease you into my  AU world.I will be adding tags as I: A) remember to update tags and B)remember to update the story during the hiatus.





	1. As in the end, so is the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not adding warnings or trigger warnings until I deem this story complete. Be gentle with yourselves and know your limits. If you can't handle that right now, do whatever is healthiest for you. Avoid this stupid WIP like I've avoided the last 3 episodes of Season 12. (I just literally can't handle it yet.) <3 to all!

Looking up at the sky Dean felt the power of the bomb residing within. It made him itchy, as if he was filled with thousands of wasps all set to attack. His boots left hollow thudding sounds in his wake as he paced the too perfect garden waiting for Amara to show herself. The fountains gurgled and birds chirped, but there was an odd stillness to the space around him that reminded him of all the times Amara stole him away to her presence.

“Dean.”, Amara’s voice called across the small distance. “How did you find me?”

Dean gulped down the lump in his throat and aimed for a carefree tone. “Does it matter? I’m here to give you what you want.” He smirked and gestured to himself. “Me.”

Amara scoffed and flicked her curly mane over her shoulder. “That’s a change.”

“Well I can’t just stand by and watch the world, my friends, and my family die. So if being a part of you takes me away from that then I’m in.”, he placated, slowly pacing toward her.

“You...and that bomb in your chest?”, she deadpanned.

Dean froze, momentarily shocked. 

“Do you think I can’t taste the power coming off of you? Please.”, Amara rolled her eyes.

His gaze fell to the ground at his feet, his thoughts scrambling for some way to salvage the situation. All of humanity depended on this, and it was falling to shit.

“The problem is you’ve never been able to hurt me, so what makes this time any different?”, she queried with a petulant air.

“I don’t have a choice.”, he grit out with all his frustration. “What you’re doing to the sun?”

“That’s not me!”, Amara spat heatedly. Dean’s face betrayed his confusion, and Amara drew in a deep breath. “With my brother getting weaker the scales are tipping away from light-”  
“-and into darkness.”, Dean cut in as the wheels in his mind clicked into order again.

“Into nothing -when God’s gone the universe, everything will cease to exist – including me!”, she raised an eyebrow, challenging this brave little ant in her presence. She glided along to a stone bench and sat rigidly. “My brother betrayed me!”, she fumed. “He locked me away for billions of years. He sent you to execute me!”, he voice shook with her anger.

“No, no. No. He zapped me here, yes, but he didn’t want this.”

Amara sneered in disbelief, rolling her eyes again.

“This wasn’t his idea! You’re family! He doesn’t want you dead!”, Dean’s voice raised louder, insistant above the ambient noises of water and birds chattering. “He doesn’t want any of this!”, he shouted passionately. If he could just break through to her with his firm belief she could turn this around – after all, she was a Goddess. Maybe she could make it all even out in the wash somehow. It was worth a try.

“You need to talk to Chuck – I mean...God. If you heard it from him, I know you’d believe me. This was our stupid attempt to save ourselves, he had nothing to do with it! The guy’s a little nutso-” his rambling faltered as she fixed him with a heated stare. “I mean, I uh...”, he scrambled. “He doesn’t want the planet destroyed. He likes to make shit up – why would he want to destroy anything, much less his own kid sister?”, Dean pleaded.

Amara stood quickly, snapping her fingers and summoning her brother to the garden. 

“Why did you bring me here?”, Chuck demanded with as much strength as he could muster, rising from the ground and fixing his sister in his sight.

“Brother -”, Amara’s dress floated around her on a silent gust of wind. “I...I….”, she glanced over to Dean, who lost all color in the terror of standing between two angry Gods. Dean drew a silent breath to steady himself, and he nodded at Amara, thinking ‘C’mon, now. Spit it out, girl!’

Amara looked away, he voice sounding hesitant and hollow. “In the beginning...it was just you and me? We were...family.”

Chuck’s jaw clenched. ‘This isn’t good.’, Dean thought. ‘The last time he got pissed the world flooded.’

“I loved you and I thought – no, I knew that you loved me.”

Chuck, moved with compassion closed the distance between them. “I did. I do!”, his voice like honey and his expression soft.

“But then you went, and you made all these other things”, she said with resentment coloring her tone. “I hated it! I hated you for needing something else, something that wasn’t me.”, she spat out. “And then you locked me away and all I could think about was making you suffer!”

“You had your reasons”, Chuck gently prodded.

“I did!”, she replied with her tone growing softer. “I thought revenge would make me happy. But I was wrong.”, she admitted with tears in her eyes. “What you’ve made?”, she glanced over to Dean and back to her brother’s eyes. “It’s beautiful.”, she said with full conviction. “It took me a long time to see that.” 

Chuck began to cry hot, silent tears. 

“I know that we can’t go back to the way things were.”, Amara drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to. I wish- “, a tear rolled down her perfect cheek, “I wish we could just be a family again.”

“I do too!”, Chuck sighed with relief. Amara was the Sam to his Dean, and life wasn’t right without her riding shotgun. He lifted an open hand to her, and smiled gently when her fingers latched on to his. Their joined hands began to glow, and Dean’s eyes squinted as the sky began to brighten. ‘Holy shit, they did it! We’re gonna be okay!’, he smiled to himself in wonderment.

Amara let go of her brother’s hand and lifted hers above his chest, sending her power deep within to repair his broken heart. They both grinned at each other and turned to regard Dean.

“I think we’re just gonna go away for awhile...”, Chuck said with a practiced nonchalance.

 

“Hey, no. Family meeting. I get it.”, Dean threw his hands up as if to excuse himself from their presence.

“But first?”, Chuck walked forward, lifting his hand to Dean’s soul center, drawing the soul bomb within his own self. It was a painful, but brief process, that left Dean gasping quietly.

“Better?”, Chuck asked kindly.

“What about us? What about Earth?”, Dean asked.

“Earth will be fine.”, Chuck said while nodding. “It’s got you!”, he enthused to Dean’s shocked expression. “And Sam.”, Chuck said with a saucy wink before returning to his sister’s side.

Amara intertwined her fingers with Chuck’s and leveled a kind smile to Dean. 

“Dean? You gave me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you.”, she said before she and Chuck – no, God – turned into cascading black and white mist that dissipated swiftly.

Dean shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the last half hour or so before searching the garden for an exit. As he swung the gate open, it led to a dark, shadowy maze of greenery. Dean picked his phone from his back pocket, turning on the flashlight feature and trying to load his GPS. Stumbling through the thicket and muttering to himself, he was caught off guard by a woman’s voice crying out for help. He rushed forward, shoving his phone into his pocket, when he entered a clearing and couldn’t believe his eyes.

Standing in her white nightgown, her long, golden hair billowing around her shoulders was his mom. She looked exactly as he remembered her looking from that night so long ago. A memory flashed through his mind of her gentle warmth embracing him before tucking him in bed with his teddy bear and the promise that angels were watching over him, just like she did every night until Azazel took her away forever...but here she was, as if that had never happened. The smell of Chanel No. 5 greeted his nose, not charred flesh. It had to be her – this wasn’t a djinn dream, or some sick joke. Amara had given his back his mom.

“Mom?”, his voice carried his doubt in the face of the unbelievable.

 

After convincing each other of reality they stopped at the Wal-Mart just outside of Lebanon. Dean fidgeted with his keys. “Mom, do you know what sizes I need to grab for you? I mean...you’re barefoot...in your pjs. I don’t wanna take too long getting you back home, to our home...where Sam and I live I mean...”, Dean swallowed against the bile rising in his throat from all the stress. He could feel his vocal chords trying to squeeze shut and render him mute.

Mary smiled and patted his hand. “Sure. Do you have paper and a pen? I’ll make a quick list.”, she said gently. Dean loved the way she looked at him in wonderment, as if she was amazed at who he grew up to be. He knew that look wouldn’t last long, and he was going to soak it in while it lasted.

“Sure, yeah. Glove box.”, he managed to get out while wiping one hand harshly down the lower half of his face. Taking the quickly jotted note and exchanging it for his Colt. Mary lightly traced the ornate etchings along the barrel. “Thank you, Dean. This isn’t your only weapon is it? I don’t want you left in need.”

Dean shook his head and with a small, sly grin he patted his boot. “Nope, got a blade. I’m good. Be back in a jiffy.”, he tossed her the keys and hurried into the big box store.

Glancing over the list he felt heat rise up his neck when he realized she would be needing even the basic essentials of underwear. Frowning slightly he grabbed a cart and practically ran through the clothing section, nabbing packages of socks, underwear and a few boxed bras before he slowed down to carefully select a few soft, warm shirts and some denim jeans. 

“Shit. She’ll need chick stuff.”, he muttered to himself, realizing the only backup grooming supplies they had were exclusively male-centric. Forget actual hell, it was mislabeled. This right here, wandering through the tampon and deodorant aisles for his mother was the real hell. ‘Alastair never considered this kind of torture’, he mused with salty sass.

Twenty long minutes later he was loading the trunk with most of the purchases when Mary leaned out the open window. “Can you hand me the pants and a shirt….one of the bras would be great too.”

“Uhm, I was gonna stop and find a place for you to change, Mom.”

Mary laughed a hollow, slightly bitter sound. “We’re hunters, Dean. Just gimme the stuff and I’ll get dressed while you drive.”

 

An hour later they stood on the unassuming doorstep to the bunker. Dean unearthed the key, unlocked the door and ushered Mary in ahead of himself.

“You live here?”, Mary asked incredulously while surveying the huge entryway to the library and war room.

“Yeah, when we’re not on the road.”, Dean grit out. He was beginning to feel self conscious. “It’s an old Men of Letters Bunker.”, he turned leading her down the stairs.

“Men of Letters? They’re a myth! An old hunter’s story.”

“Not so much. Your new duds look good.”

Mary laughed lightly. “Well, thanks. It’s better than walking around in my nightgown the rest of the-”, her words were cut short when they came across smeared blood on the cool cement floor. “That’s blood.”, she deadpanned as if he’d never seen any.

Dean’s eyes were wide, scanning the space before him. 

“Sammy? Cas?”, he called out while scoping the library. ‘Shit. Somebody banished Cas.’, he thought silently.

The blood sigil made him wrinkle his nose. That was going to be a bitch to bleach away later. He quickly armed himself with his Colt and silently snuck forward to the closest stashed gun to hand over to Mary. ‘We gotta get her a gun of her own.’, his mind supplied unhelpfully amid the stress. Someone was in his home and he was going to make them pay for the intrusion. He checked the revolver, ensuring it was fully loaded before passing it over. 

“Take this. Stay here.”, his eyes flicked quickly around looking for other signs of a fight. Maybe the blood on the floor was from whoever made the sigil. Maybe Sam subdued them and they were in the dungeon.

Behind his back Mary frowned. He may be her son and all grown up, but she was a hunter practically from birth and didn’t appreciate being coddled. He didn’t hear her quietly spitting his name out, so she moved forward to retrace his steps and make sure he didn’t miss anything. 

The sound of a door opening and footsteps approaching made her flinch before whirling around and demanding of the intruder that they surrender on hands and knees. The dark haired man rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw he continued his approach.

“Who are you, and where is Sam?”, Castiel continued advancing even as the revolver leveled at his heart. 

“I said hands! Now.”, Mary demanded with venom dripping from her tongue.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Relax, Mom! He’s a friend, alright?!”, Dean raised his hand, coming between them and forcing her to lower her gun. He briefly nodded at his mom before turning his eyes on Castiel's bright blue ones, which were wide with shock. “Hey, Cas.”, his voice lowered to a vulnerable whisper like pitch as he rushed to embrace his angel.

“Dean?! Dean! You’re alive?!”, he pushed the hug to an end, demanding an explanation. Dean couldn’t hold back a lopsided smile, effecting an almost cocky swagger. “Yeah.”

“What about the bomb?! And the darkness?”, Castiel pleaded.

“I’ll tell you everything. Promise. Where’s Sam?”, Dean inched closer, needing to feel the safety of being with Cas again. “He’s not here.”, the angel replied softly, turning and trying to gather his nerve for the inevitable fallout.

“Are you a hunter?”, Mary interrupted while glancing between Dean and this dark haired man. It was easy to see they were close...a bit too close. Who was this presumptive asshole that obviously knew her son intimately?

“No, I’m an Angel.”, Castiel replied without any fanfare as Dean said practically the same thing. Castiel didn’t have the patience to deal with this blonde intrusion. His focus was only on Dean.

“Come again?!”, she demanded.

“An angel. You know, capital A. Wings, harp?”, Dean gestured a little with his hands hoping she could catch up quickly. Castiel rolled his eyes at him and turned to Mary. “No, I don’t have a harp.” As if offended Dean would insinuate a Seraph formerly in charge of his own battalion in Heaven would have time to sit around playing music.

Dean leveled a serious expression toward his mother, as if daring her to challenge any perceived failing as he proudly introduced Castiel. Turning quickly, his eyes a bit watery as he realized he was basically introducing his almost boyfriend to his mom, he briefly bit his lower lip before continuing the introduction. “Cas, this is...Mary. Winchester.”

Dean could see the wheels turning in Cas’ head as he quickly flipped from the incredulous “You got married in Vegas before coming home to me?!” to the calm, confused lit lightbulb of understanding. 

“Your mother?”

“Yeah, Cas. My mom.” Dean huffed a little laugh. “So, wait. Where is Sam? He’s not answering his phone – there’s blood on the floor.”

They quickly caught up with each other, scrambling to make a plan to bring Sam home again and kick the nameless woman’s perky white ass. They would make time to actually catch up later. Dean smiled faintly at Cas in a tender and subtle promise before returning to his computer search for the car that ran the red light.

 

Days later found them laying in bed, enjoying the afterglow. The British Men of Letters, Sam and Mary were far from their minds. Castiel was lazily running his fingers slowly up and down the open expanse of Dean’s bare back, enjoying every time Dean hummed a pleased sound or wordlessly curled in closer. Castiel smiled brokenly into his lover’s freckled shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss to it before looking up at the ceiling and clearing his throat. They never have been good at expressing their feeling with words – Dean because of his constant fear of vulnerability and judgment, and Castiel because modern day English failed to sum up the magnitude of it all.

“I am so thankful you’re alive. I...Dean, I can’t force you to make promises, but don’t push me away and tell me not to follow you again. I...I have lived millennia without you and I can’t do it now that you’re in my arms.”

Dean looked up from where he was nestled into Cas’ chest and frowned. “You know I can’t promise you that. I can’t promise anything. We’ve been over this.”

Castiel closed his eyes, unable to continue speaking around the hard lump in his throat. A tear traced down his face and silently hit the pillow beneath his head. “Cas. Castiel. Look at me, man.” Dean patted the place over his angel’s heart. “What I do is dangerous. Your dad...God...he said he made me to be like a firewall. That’s his plan. When you first saved me, you trusted him.”

Castiel curled his arms around Dean and looked through his wet lashes at him. “I trust you, Dean. You are where my faith lies now. I can’t allow you to sacrifice yourself. I’m too selfish – too damaged.”, his voice broke on the last word.

“Cas, you’re a Winchester. Damaged doesn’t mean jack shit. I gotta’ do whatever it takes to get shit done like God made me to do. If that means I strap a soul bomb into my chest, I’m gonna do it. I’ve gotta put Lucifer back in his cage. We gotta’ fight assholes like the British sons of bitches that tortured Sam. I want this to work between us. I don’t want it to just be stress relief, or a fling or anything but real and tong term, but I don’t want you there if or when I gotta’ pull the plug on myself somehow. I don’t want that to be the last thing you see! I want right here and now to be the memories that you keep. No arguments, Angel.”, his voice took a hard edge to it even as his hands began to wander in sensual caresses.

“I’m not arguing with you, Dean.”

Cas drew in a quick breath as Dean began to trail kisses down his chest and his fingers raked lightly down his sides. “I don’t like arguing with you. You fight dirty.”, he growled with an arched brow.

“Damn right I do.”, Dean purred as he swallowed him down.

“Dean! Fuck!”, Castiel gasped out, clenching his fists in the sheets beneath him. Dean bobbed and sucked, teasing the tender slit with the tip of his tongue and then hollowing out his cheeks as he slammed down hard, allowing his lover to lose control and buck up into his mouth. Pouty lips shining from precum and spit, Dean hummed a dirty and posessive sound as an orgasm tore through Cas, causing the fallen angel to shudder and pant shallow breaths. Dean popped off with a smirk, allowing himself to be painted in spunk. When Cas finally opened his eyes Dean crawled upward, licking a hot stripe across Cas’ torso and playfully nipping at his pecs. 

“’I don’t sweat under any circumstance’ my ass.”, he laughed softly, using a gentle sweeping motion to brush away the small droplets at Castiel's temples. 

“I will spend the rest of my days trying to deserve you, Dean Winchester.”  
Castiel kissed Dean as if his very existence was dependent on making the hunter feel cherished and more precious than anything created.

 

It was only a short hour later when Dean carefully slipped from under Cas' arm and tucked the bedding in around him as best he could without waking him up. His mind was a blender, with euphoria at their confessions and sex, the awesome marathon sex that segued into gentle lovemaking... but also the recent events of their non-paying jobs. He still could hardly wrap his mind around that his mom was back from the dead, and Sam was safe and sound. The British douchbags could go fuck themselves – he’d worry about them later.

He looked down at the Angel, admiring his toned, tan backside and leg that peeked out from the edge of the rumpled bedding. The long line of his neck, where he had left some rather telling hickies, all the way up to the worry free expression on his face. Dean wanted nothing more than to stay and let his fingers walk through the wayward curls of hair that were even more enticing in their post-sex styling.

Dean checked the alarm clock beside the bed. 2:47AM. Everything was quiet in the bunker. He decided now was probably the best time to sneak off and get cleaned up. Sam wouldn't be up for his morning run until 6, and their mom was probably asleep. Dean quietly grabbed his robe from the peg behind the door, and fresh clothes from the closet before quietly exiting the room. He made it only a few steps down the hall before he heard stirring in his mom's room, so he quickly ninja stepped past her door and made a quick escape to the shower room.

\-----

Castiel stirred, feeling the warmth beside him to be absent. He reached out a hand across the sheets to confirm before opening his eyes. Dean was no longer in the room. He sighed and ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair when reality crashed back in, causing a silly smile to break his normally stoic expression. They had finally acted on their mutual attraction in a sexual way, and it was mind blowing.

He ripped the covers off and then realized he was stark naked and covered in dried spunk. Taking a deep breath, he flexed his abilities, cleaning and dressing himself in the blink of an eye. It was odd that he fell asleep; he didn't need to sleep with the exception of his time spent as a human.

He briefly opened his mind to listen for his bretheren's chatter, before turning his attention much closer, to monitor his mate and the other inhabitants of the bunker. Sam was dreaming peacefully, and Mary was projecting very discomforted emotions into the universe. Dean was… apparently drunk, wherever he was. 

That was worrisome. 

‘Perhaps he regrets our joining.’, his brain supplied unhelpfully. Castiel shook himself, following his intuition, discovering Dean in the kitchen. He was two six packs in, with pictures of his family scattered on the ground around him and his empty bottles. Cas reached out to gently comb his fingers through the short hairs on the back of Dean’s head. His heart broke seeing Dean looking so forlorn. Stooping down and enveloping Dean in a gentle embrace, the hunter allowed gentle kisses to his brow and soft caresses to the backside of his neck. 

“Babe, I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know what to think.”, Dean roughly ran a hand under his nose and set his bottle of beer on the ground. He picked up a picture of himself holding his baby brother close. “She- she doesn’t understand. She said Dad was a good father – but I was like Sammy’s dad. I was his mom. I’ve always been the one -”, his voice closed off at the end of the harsh whisper. He loathed going mute from emotional stress.

"Dean, it's time for bed.", Castiel roughly kissed Dean’s lips, surprising the hunter, and forcing the wheels in his mind to shift gears. With no effort at all, Castiel scooped him up, cradling him close, and he carried Dean back to the comfort of their shared living space. The angel carefully tucked him in, touching a gentle hand to Dean's face, sending him into a deep sleep.

Something bright blue flashed in the golden hues of Dean’s soul light, catching Cas’ attention. He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, drawing close to get a better look. With a surprised breath he closed his eyes. Just when they were on the same page and everything seemed to work out, another game changer happened. Castiel undressed and curled protectively around Dean, drawing him as close as he could without waking him. This news would keep. Dean wasn’t in any danger. The warding on his ribs would keep him safe. The bunker was as secure as it could be, and Castiel would keep watch until the morning light.


	2. Chapter 2

“Alright, so what have you found on her Majesty’s secret suckbags?”, Dean leaned closer while sipping his second cup of coffee. Sam sighed and brushed his hair off his face.

“Well, I mean...I turned the bunker upside down looking for any reference whatsoever to the British Men of Letters and all I found was this letter tucked into an old ledger uh,”, Sam pulled the loose page forward, scanning it quickly. “From the ‘London Chapter-house’.”

Dean set his mug down and waggled his hands in a ‘gimme’ gesture. “Okay, well that’s something, right?”

“Yeah, not so much. It’s all redacted.”, Sam let his expression fall as soon as he handed the letter over. He knew Dean was disappointed and he hated to fail him.

“Awesome.”, Dean refolded the letter, passing it back to his younger brother before resuming his morning ritual of Dunkin Donuts vanilla bean coffee. The flavor wasn’t his favorite, but it always set him in a better mood because it was Cas’. 

Solid footsteps approached, making Dean sit forward in his chair, a little taller. “Morning sunshine! Some coffee?”, Dean gestured to the half full pot on the counter behind Sam.

“No, thank you.”, Castiel squinted in his ‘I’m totally hiding something’ face. “I have to go.”, he avoided even glancing at Sam, attempting to make a quick escape.

Dean threw a glance at Sam and launched himself quickly behind his angel. “Cas? Wait up!”, he called out. ‘Damn if I’m going to let him just jet out of here without a damn by-your-leave. Especially after last night!’, his mind raced faster than his feet.

“Hey. Wait a second. Where are you off to?”, Sam leaned casually against the corner of the hallway. He’d learned from experience to keep the drama down it was best if he was the bad guy. Castiel spun on his heel and faced his friend, avoiding looking at Dean as much as possible. He knew if he allowed Sam an inch the guy would take a mile, while he had plenty of experience avoiding hard truths with Dean if he could just keep from looking into his emerald eyes.

“Cleveland. Ohio.”

“What? Why? We just got back here, Cas.”

“I think I have a lead on Lucifer. I found a police report in Cleveland about a man whose eyes flared a glowing red.”, Castiel shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. “It could be Lucifer in a new body.”

“Yeah, alright. That sounds like something. We should check it out.”, Dean replied in an even tone. He was used to taking charge and calling the shots, and wasn’t about to let Castiel walk out the door alone.

“No. The Devil is free because of me. Finding him is my responsibility.”, the angel firmly replied. His plan for keeping Dean safe would fall apart if he backed down now.

Sam waved a hand between them. “Cas, you’re gonna’ want some backup on this.”

“If it is him, I will call you.”, he said to Sam before turning away and looking over his shoulder at his boyfriend. “In the meantime, I think you’re needed here.”

‘That damn squint.’ “What the fuck do I have going on here that you don’t want me with you?”, Dean prayed silently as Cas walked away ignoring him. He lightly smacked Sam’s arm. “What the hell was that about?!”

Sam leveled a hard look at him in return, clicking his tongue. “Mom.”

“What are you talking about? Mom’s fine.”, Dean scoffed while leading them back to their abandoned breakfast dishes. 

“Sure. I heard her walking around all night last night! I mean, don’t you think she seems a bit withdrawn? Shaky?”

They sat in unison, Sam tidying up his files and Dean sighing into his now cold cup. “Of course she’s shaky. She hasn’t been on this planet since Jane Fonda was wearing legwarmers. All she needs is some good R&R, some family time...”, he gestured to the space between them. “She’ll be aces.”

Sam sighed quietly, doubt filling his tone. “Yeah, sure.”

Lighter footsteps in the echoing hallway announced Mary’s entrance. “Hey!” 

“Hey. Morning! Want some breakfast?”

Sam quickly swooped forward to block her from the greasy, half-empty plate, his face filled with disgust at the idea that Mary would eat their leftovers. “Oh, hey. That’s probably cold now, Mom. We can fry up some more.”

As if things weren’t awkward enough coming back from the dead to live in an underground bunker with her two grown sons that were technically older than her, Sam seemed to think bacon wasn’t good enough for her? She looked at him incredulously. “It’s bacon, Sam.” Nimble fingers nabbed a bit and she savored it as if to prove her point.

“Wow. We are so related.”, Dean chuckled. Suddenly the air and atmosphere between them lightened with that stupid joke.

“Did you cut your hair?”, Sam looked her over. Dean threw him a look but was interrupted by her talking with her mouth full and pulling up a chair. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna’ keep it short if I’m gonna go out on a hunt, you know? I mean, why give the bad guys the advantage of long pull-able hair, right?”

Dean laughed. “I’ve been trying to tell Sam that for years.”

“Wait a minute. Did you say you’re going out on a hunt?”, Sam reached out to touch her wrist lightly.

“Yeah, I found a case.”

“I thought you were still struggling with even the idea of the internet!”

Mary smiled tightly and rose from her chair with a forced laugh. “I had Dean pick up some newspapers when he went into town.”

“Whoa – whoa now. You didn’t tell me you were looking for a case.”, Dean looked to Sam to express his innocence and up at his mom to glare his annoyance at her putting him in the middle.

“I wasn’t!”, she placated with her mouth full. “I just...found one.”

The boys both sat back and sighed deeply. First Cas and now Mary. It was like trying to herd cats back into a paper sack. It looked like they were going to have their hands full. At least Dean would be distracted from Castiel leaving him again.

-  
-  
–

“Look, I love Mom. I do. She’s just...not what I expected. I had this picture in my head from all the stories Dean and Dad told, and it’s not lining up with reality. She’s impulsive, and hard headed-”

Eileen grabbed Sam’s hand tightly. “Sam, I know you’re upset, but I can’t lipread as easy when you look away or say things too fast. Can you write it to me on your phone? You don’t have to keep what you write, just… this seems really important and I want to support you better.”

Sam closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. He looked up and signed brokenly while he spoke in his normal pitch and pace. “I’m sorry. You got your laptop?”

Eileen smiled, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a playful wink. “Of course.” As she rose to retrieve it from her bag in the chair beside his closet door, Sam pulled his off the nightstand and patted the empty space beside him at the head of the bed. Eileen quickly kicked off her shoes and joined Sam. He put his laptop down on the middle of the bed and waited until she followed suit before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. She hummed contentedly and leaned back. “Why kiss?”, she signed.

“Because you are awesome. I like you.”, he signed back.

“’Like’ like ‘same’? You’re the same as me?”, she voiced with a raised eyebrow.

“No...I like you.”, he said quietly and awkwardly nibbled his lower lip.

Eileen smiled brightly and signed in reply with her hand flat at her collarbone, drawing the open air forward with her thumb and middle finger. “I like you, Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Duh. I don’t have hunter sleep over parties with just anybody, you goof!”, she rolled her eyes and diverted her attention to her laptop, opening a new document file so she could type replies to Sam. “Font size 22”, she wrote at the top and gestured vaguely at his laptop. He stretched out comfortably, crossing his socked feet and easing back against the headboard with laptop at the ready. He waved a hand to get her attention, inviting her to take the open space beside him. Eileen nodded and shifted, sitting cross legged with her laptop in front of her and leaning her head over on to Sam’s shoulder while he typed for her to read.

“I understand Mom is a real person with her own feelings and needs, but she’s not like I pictured her to be and I don’t know how to relate to her. Everything feels awkward when we’re in the same room, and now she’s left us to go find herself. I don’t even know where to start to untangle that.”

Eileen nodded and typed a reply on her own computer.

“What did you think she would be like? You grew up with just stories, yeah?”

Eileen could feel Sam take a deep breath before he could form a reply. She gently stroked his elbow to shoulder where she was still leaning her head. “It’s ok. Go slow or tell me what you’re thinking. You don’t even have to answer if I was rude.”, she tried to whisper comfortingly. It made Sam smile a little, because she couldn’t hear the level of volume her whispers were and they were like dramatic stage whispers instead of the quiet pitch of secrets. It was fucking adorable, and it broke the tension he had been holding inside.

“I thought from what Dean and Dad said that she would need looking after. That she was gentle and girly. Mom-like. But she’s snarky and eats cold bacon and left over pizza without warming it up. She burps really loud and she’s so fucking stubborn!” 

“So...she’s not Betty Crocker or a prettier Martha Stewart. She’s a girl version of Dean?”

“Shit.”, he spat emphatically.

Eileen looked over at his screen where nothing new was written.

“Fuck. Really? Shit.”

Eileen looked at him quizzically. “Sam, you remember I’m Deaf, right? I can’t hear you.”

“It’s so simple when you put it like that. They’re just like each other.”

Eileen nodded. She closed her laptop and set it aside in favor of snuggling closer and typing on Sam’s keyboard.

“You guys <3 each other. You just gotta remember they remembered bits of her – but all of her is back – the good and bad stuff.”

Sam closed his laptop and put it aside. “How’d you get so smart?”, he signed flirtatiously.

“Lots of books. Don’t you know the brainy girls get the guys worth keeping?”, she laughed lightly and stole a gentle kiss. Sam’s hands framed her face tenderly, in direct contrast to the eager and heated press of his lips against hers. 

A loud booming against the door made Sam pull away from her with a jolt. 

“Sam! Get your ass out here. There’s food!”, Dean called through the closed door. They learned long ago that solo space was something akin to sacred, and to respect the closed doors of their respective rooms. 

“Okay?”, she signed.

Sam nodded, running his hands through his hair. “Yeah, Dean was at the door. There’s food. I guess he took his bad attitude out for a drive to the store. You hungry?” His fingers itched to reach out and hold her hand, but he felt it would be like taking her ability to choose her communication level away. She noticed the small twitch and his restraint, reaching out and grabbing his hand so she could pull him to the door. “Yeah. Dean makes good food. C’mon!”  
-  
-  
-  
Dean was busily plating burgers and oven fried potato wedges when they walked in to the kitchen to ransack the beer shelf. 

“Oh, hey. Didn’t know we weren’t alone.”, Dean smiled tightly and passed a plate to Eileen. “How are ya, kid?”

“Hey Dean. Ooo, smells good.”

Sam kissed the top of her head as she passed under his arm where he was reaching for another plate on the high shelf, exchanging places so he could load up too. “Hey Dean, thanks for making food. We got enough?” Privately and momentarily glad for Eileen’s lack of hearing Dean mumbled that he could stretch it out and would be a minute before joining them.

“Are we eating in here?”, Eileen tilted her head toward the industrial metal table, Sam nodding in reply. Dean quickly made a few more patties before flicking the eye of the stove off and throwing the towel from his shoulder into the awaiting sink.

“So, how long you gonna’ stay this time, Eileen?”

She quizzically glanced at Sam for clarity while he signed “Long stay?”. Eileen shook her head. “I don’t know how long. I can clear out if I’m in your way. I know your mom’s come back.”

Dean’s expression soured. “Nah, don’t worry about that. She ditched us and you never stay in your own room anyway.” He leaned over and playfully punched Sam’s arm. 

“Sam said that British bitch burned his foot almost off, but Castiel fixed it. I don’t see any scarring.”, she moaned around her burger in delight. “This is so good, Dean... so is he lying to get laid, or do I need to kill somebody?”

Dean mechanically ate his food in silence. Sam grimaced comically, making Eileen whip her phone out to text “What did I say wrong?”.

“Cas left too. Dean’s feeling really rejected.”, he typed with one hand under the table and the other shoveling fries into his mouth.

“Dean, I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? You look sad.”, she gently patted his free hand, which he withdrew slowly.

“No. Sam didn’t lie. The British Men of Letters said they want us to work together. I don’t see that happening.”, Dean said with his eyes on his plate. 

“If they hurt Sam what makes them think we’ll help them?”

Sam laughed and downed some beer. “I don’t think they were really hoping we-”, he gestured around the table, “were going to help them. I think they want to take out the big players here and run things their way. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

Eileen finished half her burger and turned to the counter where they kept food storage containers, popping the rest in a Tupperware. She gathered the random dirty dishes and began cleaning up, trying to covertly give the brothers some space. 

An hour following the drama filled dinner found Sam and Eileen alone again in Sam’s room. Sam was making himself busy setting up the dvd she brought while she got dressed for bed. He turned to toss her the remote and was dumbstruck by the sight of her perched on the end of his bed. Her long hair was tousled in a messy up-do, and she was wearing his Stanford sweatshirt, her long legs bare and tanned, with fuzzy purple socks on her feet. She eagerly clapped her hands for him to hand over the remote, but he was still frozen in place.

“What’s wrong?”, she asked. 

Sam shook his head slowly. “Nothing. You’re just so...beautiful.”, he breathed.

“Whatever. I bet you say that to all the girls. Gimme the remote – I have to put the language settings in.”

“You’re in my shirt.”

“I am not immature! Give it over!”, she raised a haughty brow at him while lunging forward to wrestle it from him. Sam laughed, seeing an opportunity for fun he quickly sidestepped causing her to collide with him abruptly. He put a gentle index finger to the tip of her nose and moved it to his chin with a self satisfied smirk. 

“You are wearing my shirt.”, he teased while pulling the hem down over her panties. “Thief.”

Eileen gently bit her lower lip while he spoke before deciding to kiss him soundly, distracting him from the remote. She cackled loudly while running around the end of the bed with the remote held high. “I win!”, she crowed.

Sam quickly shed his flannel, tossing it in the hamper as he walked over to the closet where he kept his wardrobe. 

“That’s right, take it all off!”, she teased. She flopped down on her stomach, propping her chin on her open palm to enjoy the show. Sam gave her a wink, playing with the hem of his over shirt before raising it over and off with one arm. He leaned forward, flexing his pecs before toying slowly with his belt, drawing out the teasing as best he could without cracking up. Eileen winked and blew an air kiss, cracking his nerve and turning him on simultaneously.

Two long strides took him to the edge of the mattress where he deftly flipped her and dragged her closer by the back of her knees. The air between them crackled as he leaned in, kissing up and down the tender flesh of her exposed thighs, making her moan wantonly. Her hands found an anchor at the back of his head, grabbing desperately, pulling him closer as his breath and kisses teased at the edges of her hemline. He pulled back, looking in her eyes – rich brown like the finest of chocolates, and lust blown with her pupils wide and wondering. He eased his hands in a sensual caress up and down her thighs. “What do you want? Tell me.”

With one beckoning index finger and the upward canting of her hips she drew him in. She reveled in the feeling of his dominating kisses and strong hands holding her wrists to the mattress. 

“Too many clothes, Sam.”, she panted between kisses. His hands roamed, wandering up and under his old sweatshirt over the delicious curves and planes of her waist and breasts. “Fuck. You’re so gorgeous.”, he breathed down the curve of her neck. “Sam!”, her voice broken and ragged caused him to flinch and withdraw so he could assure himself she was still on board. 

As soon as he raised back she used his momentum to roll him over with her knees pinning him to the mattress. 

“Take your damn jeans off!”, she huffed while her fingers made quick work of his button and zipper. She shimmied down easing the denim with her as she went. Sam grabbed the back of her top, trying to rid her of clothing at the same time but she got trapped halfway in and out of it. She sat up, laughing and waving her arms above her head. “Help! I’m stuck! This is your fault!” Sam’s laughter shook the bed as he quickly lent a hand, freeing her from her cotton prison and easing her back down on his lap, his kisses and deft tongue mapping her mouth for his memories forever. Soon they began a delicious rhythm of grinding against each other. 

Their movie night could wait.


End file.
